Lord, Remember Me
by Mizzlyday
Summary: He moves in mysterious ways ... little Zach gains a better grasp of this than most when Sam leaps in answer to a desperate prayer.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note and disclaimer: I acknowledge that Quantum Leap and its original characters belong to Donald Bellisario. The town referred to is fictional. I have spell-checked, but the eight-year-old's diary is meant to be badly spelled!

**Lord, Remember Me**

**Chapter 1**

Disoriented from his latest leap, Sam gazed around at his surroundings. He found himself sat in the front row of what appeared to be an elementary school classroom. A middle-aged, female teacher was leaning against her desk and reading from a storybook and the room was full of boys and girls whom Sam guessed to be aged around nine. Still a little dazed, he was startled when a tough-looking boy hissed at him, "What are you looking at?" Sam realised his blank gaze must have hovered on this one boy a little too long and he quickly looked back at the teacher.

"What's the problem, Daniel?" the teacher asked, directing her question at the other boy.

"Zach was looking at me."

"Zach, is there a problem?" This time the question was to Sam.

He felt the eyes of the entire class trained on him, and replied quietly, "No, Ma'am," before fixing his stare firmly on his desk. The last thing Sam wanted was to draw attention to himself. He was already beginning to wonder how he was going to survive the school day without doing anything that could make life difficult for Zach. It would be all too easy to accidentally alienate him from his friends, or turn him into a math genius for a day, before leaping out and leaving Zach to face the consequences.

The shrill noise of the school bell startled him from his thoughts. As the children tumbled en masse towards freedom, Sam noticed the clock above the door that indicated it was the end of the school day. "Saved by the bell," he whispered under his breath and he headed for the door.

"Zach, you need to take your math books home with you. You have homework." Sam turned and stared dumbly at the teacher as she spoke. She must have sensed his uncertainty, and she crossed to Zach's desk and pulled out the required books. "Can you remember what you need to do?" she asked.

Instinctively wanting to please the teacher and avoid trouble, Sam pondered for a moment whether to say he did know, and then try to figure out what to do later. But sensing that she seemed sympathetic rather than impatient with him, and not wanting to cause Zach problems by not completing the homework, he shook his head. She opened one of the books and marked the homework questions with a pencil. "Just do the questions that have a tick by them, OK, Zach?"

Sam nodded and took the books from her. "Thank you," he said, and headed again for the door.

"Zach." Her voice stopped Sam again and he turned to face her. "Is everything OK at home?"

_I haven't a clue_, thought Sam, but feeling forced to answer, he gave a slight nod.

She smiled at him, but Sam thought he detected sadness in the smile. "OK, Zach. Off you go. Don't miss the bus!" he heard her add as he finally escaped from the room.

Sam realised he needed to hurry if he was to catch the bus in time, not to mention figure out which bus it was he needed to catch. As he made his way quickly down the corridor in the general direction that the other stragglers seemed to be going, he noticed the boys' bathroom on the left and his curiosity about his appearance got the better of him. He ducked out of the flow and pushed the door open in search of a mirror.

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"Oh, boy!" Sam whispered. He had intended to take just a quick glance in the mirror, before dashing off for the bus, but the pitiful child that stared back at him begged further attention. Zach appeared smaller than the other children in his class. His dark hair was unkempt and his clothes were plain, devoid of any fashion and not recently washed. Sam had already noticed that he smelled stale and now he could see why. He took a moment to consider the life this poor child must lead and silently said a quick prayer that somehow he would be able to help, before the urgency to catch the bus resurfaced and he quickly slipped back into the corridor.

There was no longer a moving tide of children indicating an obvious route to the buses and Sam felt too intimidated by his appearance to ask directions of any remaining children that he passed. He hoped that by following the corridor in the same direction as before, he would find his way out.

Reaching the main doors and sight of the yellow buses lined up outside, Sam felt momentarily relieved until he noticed that one of the buses was pulling away. In desperation, he broke into a run, still unsure which bus to aim for.

Moments later, he was sprawled out on the concrete, knees and palms skinned and kids snickering from all directions. Slowly and painfully, he gathered his books together and stood upright. Another bus had pulled away and he would have panicked, but for the familiar figure calling his name and beckoning frantically at him.

"Over here, Sam. It's this bus. Quickly! You tripped. Are you OK?" Al's statements tumbled out and Sam rushed over and smiled gratefully at him before tapping on the bus door and looking apologetically through the glass. The driver opened the door and looked down disapprovingly at him. Sam decided this wasn't the time to hang around and he climbed quickly up the steps, wincing slightly at the sting as he bent his grazed knees.

The only seat left was the one at the front immediately behind the driver and Sam slid onto the seat, slouched down and leaned his shoulder against the window. He waited as Al appeared to walk through the bus, his legs embedded in the floor. Al tapped away at the handlink until his feet were level with the floor and then he appeared to sit beside Sam.

"Are you OK?" Al repeated, and Sam glanced down at his hands. The skin on both palms was scuffed and his right hand was bleeding slightly, but that was nothing in comparison to his bare knees. They were badly grazed and trickles of blood had run down both shins.

"Stings a bit," Sam said quietly. He fished around for a moment in the pockets of his shorts with the less injured hand, before leaning forward and asking the driver if he had a tissue. The driver, who was concentrating on pulling the bus away from the school parking bay, merely shook his head without otherwise acknowledging Sam.

Sam looked at Al and shrugged, and Al smiled sympathetically. The knees would have to wait for attention.

"Why am I here, Al?"

Al tapped at the keys of the handlink. "It's Thursday September 29th 1987. Your name's Zachary Slater, but you're known as Zach. You live with your dad, Peter Slater. You're eight years old and you're in Cutley Bank, Georgia. We don't know exactly why you're here yet, Sam, but the kid in the Waiting Room seems to have had a pretty tough time."

"Tell me about it. Look at me. I look rough and I stink." Sam had raised his voice and was rewarded with a sharp whack on the back of his head with a ruler. Once again snickers resounded around him.

"Hey," Al exclaimed uselessly at the assailant. He turned back to Sam, who was rubbing the back of his head and looking a little dejected. "Well, I'm a hologram, so I don't smell anything and right now I'm looking at you, not Zach. But you're right, the clothes are rough. You ready to help this kid?"

"I'll do what I can."

"Good. Well, seeing as we don't know much yet, I suggest you begin with finding out what's going on at home. I'll go back and start researching. Maybe the kid will come up with something useful."

Suddenly Sam looked curiously at him. "Al, you're sitting down."

"What?"

"You're sitting down, properly, on a seat."

"Yes." Al grinned.

"You never do that."

"Well, I seem to spend so much time in the Imaging Chamber, I thought I'd bring a chair with me. Is that OK?"

Sam smiled at him. "Yeah, good idea."

Al tapped again at the handlink and the Imaging Chamber door slid open beside him. Al got up and stepped through the doorway.

"Oh, Al!" Sam said, and realised again that he'd spoken too loudly as nearby kids stared at him. It was too late; Al had gone. Sam slouched back down into his seat and muttered to himself, "Where's home?"

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"Your stop, Kid." The driver's statement shook Sam from his thoughts.

"Huh?"

"This is your stop." A couple of kids had already got off the bus and the driver sounded impatient. Sam didn't need telling again.

"Thanks." He climbed from the bus, noticing his stinging knees again, and watched as it pulled away. The other two children, both older than Zach, were already some distance away and there was nobody else to ask for directions. Even if there had been, Sam wasn't sure what he would ask. He looked down at himself and was reminded of the pathetic state he was in. The blood had congealed on both his legs. He looked skyward. "I could do with some help."

When no help was immediately forthcoming, Sam took a moment to survey his surroundings. He was standing at a junction and could see a house about two hundred yards up the road in the direction that the bus had gone. Down the road to his left, there were houses on both sides and in front of the nearest house an elderly lady was gardening. Maybe she would be able to help. Sam started walking.

As he approached the lady, she looked up and smiled warmly at him. "Hello, Zach." Then, noticing his knees, she added, "What happened to you?"

"I fell when I was running for the bus."

"Well, if you'll just come here and help me up, I'll go indoors and get something to clean those legs up." The lady pulled off her gardening gloves and held out a hand to Sam. He stepped onto the grass, took her hand and gently hoisted her off the ground. "Thank you, Zach. You're quite strong for a little lad, aren't you?" Sam smiled and she led him up to her house.

"Have a seat, Zach." She gestured towards a pair of smart cushioned chairs on the veranda, before disappearing into the house. Sam glanced down at himself again, before seating himself on the top veranda step.

When the lady arrived back on the veranda with a tub of warm water and her pocket filled with tissues, antiseptic and surgical tape, she stopped in surprise. "What are you doing down there?"

Sam looked up at her. "I don't want to get blood on your chair."

"Oh. That's very thoughtful of you, Zach." She passed the tub to Sam and carefully lowered herself to a seated position beside him.

She set to work cleaning his legs up, apologising when he involuntarily flinched at the sting of the antiseptic. "I don't have any plasters big enough to cover these grazes, Zach, so we'll have to make do with folded tissues and surgical tape. You come by again tomorrow if you need me to do this again, OK?" She added quietly, "Unfortunately I don't think your father will do it for you."

Sam nodded. "Thank you."

She stuffed the tape and antiseptic into one of the ample pockets in her tunic and with her free hand, hauled herself up using the banister as support. She tipped the water into a flower bed and looked down at Sam. "Now, would you like some milk and cookies before I send you on your way?"

"That would be nice, thank you." Sam was wondering if he might be able to get some useful information from this lady, as she seemed to know Zach so well.

"Good. And please, come up and sit in a chair." She disappeared back into the house and Sam stood up, picked the nearest chair, put his books down beside it and sat down. On a small coffee table between the chairs, the lady's mail lay open from earlier that day and Sam took the opportunity to discover her name from a handwritten envelope: _Mrs E. Williams_.

Sam relaxed into the cushions. He sensed he wouldn't be enjoying such comfort for long.

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Mrs Williams handed Sam a tall glass of cold milk and offered him a cookie, before settling into her chair with a cup of tea. "How are you getting on at school, Zach? Do you have some nice friends?"

Sam thought for a moment. Nobody had waited for him outside the classroom when the teacher kept him back. Nobody had sat with him on the bus. "Not really."

"I suppose it's hard for you when there's nothing to bring them home to. How's your father?"

Sam sipped at the milk and shrugged. He really didn't know.

"Is he feeding you? I can see he's not keeping you clean. It's difficult now your grandma's not here, but you need to try to do that for yourself, Zach."

Sam nodded. "Yes, Ma'am."

"You know you can come to me if you need help, don't you? I know your father doesn't like it, but if he's not going to look after you …" she paused. "Well, he'll have to accept that people will start to interfere."

Sam gulped down the rest of his milk. "I should go home. He might start to wonder where I am."

"If only that were true," Sam heard Mrs Williams mutter.

Sam gathered up his books. Still not knowing where home was, he was wondering whether to risk Mrs Williams' concern by asking her.

She got up with him and walked him to the edge of the veranda. "Take care, love," she said, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. "Don't trip over and hurt your knees again when you walk up that rickety path of yours. And make sure you have a proper meal tonight."

"Thanks," Sam said, before making his way carefully down the steps and across the front yard.

"And see if you can get that father of yours to cut the front lawn. The yard's turning into a jungle."

"I'll try," Sam called back and he set off down the street.

Mrs Williams watched him go and shook her head. "That place is an eyesore."

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Mrs Williams had said enough for Sam to figure that he just needed to find the roughest looking property in the little neighborhood, and he would be home.

Some distance down the same street, where the houses were older and spaced further apart, he arrived in front of a house where the grass was about eight inches high, the stone path cracked and uneven and the white paint peeling off the walls. A window at the front of the house was smashed and covered with newspaper from the inside. Sam had a quick look inside an unstable looking mail box and pulled out a single plain brown envelope addressed to Mr P. Slater. _Probably a bill, _he mused. _At least I know I'm in the right place_.

Sam couldn't help feeling apprehensive as he walked towards the front door. He didn't appear to have a key with him, so he tried the handle and found the door unlocked.

Stepping straight into a large, 'L' shaped front room-cum-kitchen, he was immediately struck by the same stale smell that was on Zach's clothes, mixed with the scent of alcohol from a number of empty bottles and cans that littered the floor by the sofa. Some of the curtains were drawn, leaving the room gloomy and adding to the oppressive atmosphere.

"Dad?" Sam called tentatively. There was no answer. It seemed that nobody was home.

In the back wall of the living room, beside the kitchen area was a single open door. Sam decided to venture further into the house. The door led into a dull corridor with a back door at the far end. The first door on the right was open and revealed a small bathroom. A little further down, also on the right, was a closed door, and slightly beyond, on the left, an ajar door.

Sam walked down to the door on the left and peered inside. The tension he had been feeling lifted slightly as he found a room where the light was allowed in. The curtains were open and a big window looked out on a small, overgrown yard backing onto a shrubby open area, and further into the distance, woodland.

This was presumably Zach's bedroom. Along the wall opposite the window there were bunk beds, although only the top bunk appeared to be in use as there was nothing more than a mattress on the bottom bunk. There was what appeared to be a dismantled cradle tucked between the head of the bunk beds and the adjacent wall. A big, wooden wardrobe and a chest of drawers lined the wall opposite the door. Apart from a box of old toys tucked into the corner near the window, there was just empty space in front of the remaining wall, as though something had been taken away. Perhaps the cradle, Sam wondered. A scattering of toys and books had been discarded on the worn carpet, and a raggedy toy dog sat purposefully on Zach's pillow.

Feeling uneasy about not having checked every room, Sam went back to the closed door and quietly knocked before entering. Again he was met by a darkened room in which stale air was tinged with the smell of alcohol. The double bed jutting into the center of the room was unmade and unoccupied. Satisfied that there really was nobody home, Sam quickly shut the door and went back to Zach's room.

He shut himself inside and with difficulty, climbed up onto Zach's bunk, his movement restricted by the big patches on his knees. He sat with his legs stretched out across the safety rail and looked out of the window at the afternoon sun bathing the grass. He picked up the much-loved dog toy and read the tag on its collar: _Scruff_. Examining the dog more closely, he noticed a thin, furry, fabric flap along one side and discovered a little zipped compartment underneath. He had a look inside, but it was empty. Sam sat the dog in his lap and smiled as he gazed out of the window. Despite the lack of any inspiring decor, he thought the room must be a bit of an oasis for Zach in comparison to the rest of his home. He hoped Al would be back soon with some helpful information, as he wasn't relishing the thought of returning to school the next day.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

With nothing better to do, Sam slid out of the bunk as straight-legged as possible, and seated himself on the carpet to do Zach's homework. At least if he leaped out before school tomorrow as he hoped, Zach would have one thing less to worry about when he returned. Pulling open the textbook, Sam quickly scanned the questions. He could have completed the homework in moments, but the care he took in trying to replicate the eight-year-old's scrawl made the exercise rather more time consuming.

When he had finished, Sam dumped the books at the corner of the empty mattress and looked around the room for a clock. He was starting to feel hungry and figured that by now it must be almost supper time, although clearly no cooking was under way in the kitchen.

Unable to find the clock, Sam was about to head out to search the kitchen cupboards, when somewhere, he heard the Imaging Chamber door open. He glanced around, but Al wasn't in the room. He turned back to open the bedroom door and was slightly startled when Al stepped through the closed door and came almost nose to nose with him.

"Oh, there you are!" Al exclaimed as Sam instinctively took a couple of steps backwards. "Sorry, did I make you jump?"

Sam gave him a look, but didn't waste words. "Have you found out why I'm here?"

Al's expression turned serious. "Yeah, we have a pretty clear idea."

"Go on."

"Sam, there's a deep quarry about a quarter of a mile away somewhere through the trees behind this house. Have you been there?"

"No."

"Well, don't. In two days, Zach is reported missing. The following day, his body is found in the quarry."

Sam lowered himself onto the bottom bunk, trying to digest the news. He was silent for a while.

"You OK?" Al asked, tapping at the handlink before appearing to seat himself beside Sam.

"How does it happen, Al?"

"I can't tell you. Nobody saw anything – or at least nobody admitted to seeing anything – so the mystery was never solved. Did he jump? Did he fall? Was he pushed, and if so, who by?"

Al listed the options until Sam interrupted. "I can't believe an eight-year-old child would jump. Even if his life is as miserable as this. He might run away, but not kill himself."

"Well, you might be right. Do you have any other ideas?"

"All the other things you said seem feasible. He could have fallen. He doesn't seem to have any friends at school – you saw the way it was – I guess some kids might try a prank that goes wrong. I haven't met Zach's dad yet, although one of the neighbors I spoke to seemed to have a fairly low opinion of him." Sam leaned his head against the bunk ladder. Sometimes he just didn't feel ready for a stressful leap.

"I had a chat with Zach. He told me God put you here because he prayed for help. He's a nice kid. We cleaned him up and fed him and already he's got more of a sparkle in his eyes. I don't like the thought that he has to come back here. He told me his mom left with his two little sisters when he was six. He hasn't seen her since and he doesn't understand why she left him behind." Al paused.

"Sorry, Al. That must bring back some painful memories for you." Sam could remember snatches of what Al had told him about his childhood.

Al smiled resignedly. "At least maybe I can be a sympathetic ear for the kid. He says his grandma used to come and look after him after his mom left, but she was elderly and couldn't do everything. Then two months ago, she died suddenly. And now no-one really takes care of him. He's not sure what his dad does for a job, but Zach hardly sees him, especially since his grandma died. He seems to be out all day and often comes home drunk at night." Al paused again. "I asked him if his dad ever hits him."

"What did he say?"

"He said, 'Sometimes, when he's not himself.' Then he changed the subject."

"Do you think it's worse than he's letting on?" Sam asked.

"I'm not sure if it's that, or if he just didn't want to get his dad into trouble. He's still a bit wary about where he is, even though he seems to be brightening up. I'm sorry I can't be more help."

"At least it's a start." Sam looked at his grubby clothes again. "If I'm going to have to go to school tomorrow, I should try to clean myself up a bit. Maybe that'll give Zach a better chance of finding friends."

"It's a step in the right direction. Maybe I can give him a bit of advice on his appearance, so he'll keep it up when he gets back."

Sam chuckled at this. "Try not to indoctrinate him too much. Your dress sense is probably a little too 'individual' for Zach's school."

"Very funny, Sam." The pair grinned at each other and for a moment the mood was lightened.

Sam stood up. "First, I'm going to see if there's any food in the cupboards. What's the time, Al?"

Al tapped at the handlink again and gave it a sharp whack. "Almost half past five."

"Not too early for supper then." Sam started to head for the door.

"For you, maybe. At home it's about half three in the morning!" Al made the comment jovially, but as Sam turned back to Al, he looked remorseful.

"Al, I'm really sorry. I forget …"

Al immediately laughed at him. "Hey, by now I'm used to shifts without boundaries."

"I suppose you don't want to stay for a bit then?" Sam asked hesitantly. "It's lonely here."

"It would be an honor," Al said with deliberate pretension and he followed Sam out of Zach's bedroom.

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There wasn't much to be found in the kitchen – a stash of canned foods, some bread that wasn't too stale for toasting and a few other staples – but Sam's supper of baked beans on toast was satisfying enough, if not fancy.

Sam spent the evening washing himself and Zach's clothes, searching for anything clean that he could wear in bed and at school the following day and tidying the house. Al alternated between keeping Sam company with friendly conversation, investigating the quarry site and checking for any updates back at the project.

At just after 10pm, when Sam was stretched out on the top bunk in a pair of pajamas that were slightly too short in the arms and legs, absent-mindedly twisting Scruff's ears round his fingers and exchanging stories with Al, who was pretending to lie on the bottom bunk, they heard the front door open. Al went ahead of Sam to check the situation. He reported back that a man, presumably Zach's father, had entered, slightly inebriated, and was now seated on the sofa watching the television.

Sam slid carefully out of the bunk and quietly slipped into the living room. "Hi Dad," he ventured. This was met by a grunt. "I met Mrs Williams on the way home. She says we need to cut the grass." This time there was no answer at all. "Well, good night, Dad." Sam waited, then tried again. "Good night, Dad."

"Hmm," was the only response.

Sam gave up and shrugged at Al as he walked out of the room. Al smiled half-heartedly at Sam and followed him back to Zach's bedroom.

Sam hoisted himself back into the bunk and leaned back on his elbows, looking miserable at the hopelessness of life in the Slater household.

"I suppose I should be grateful he wasn't in an aggressive mood," Sam reflected. "How am I ever going to turn things around in this house and make Zach's life worth coming back to?"

"You leaped in to save Zach's life. Nobody's expecting you to work miracles on the father."

"What's the point in saving his life, if he just has this to come back to?" Sam blurted out.

"Don't say that, Sam. We don't know what the future holds for him." Al looked at Sam and saw that his face was still a picture of frustration. "Sam, there was a long period when my everyday existence was so miserable that life didn't seem worth living. But I don't ever regret the fact that I lived, because there was so much great stuff ahead for me. Zach's life is worth saving. Don't ever lose sight of that."

There was silence for a while. Then Sam spoke quietly. "Sorry, Al. I just feel there must be something more that I can do."

"I know. Look, I should head back." Al tapped at the handlink and the Imaging Chamber door opened in front of the bedroom door. "Get some sleep, and stay away from that quarry. I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, Al."

"Good night, Sam."

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After Al had left, Sam shuffled backwards onto the pillow so he could push the duvet down and get underneath it. With the duvet pushed down, Sam noticed that the mattress was too small for the bed frame and on the wall side of the bed, there was a gap between the side of the mattress and the side of the frame. Stuffed into this gap was a torch, a blue notebook, a pencil, some coins, a rolled-up comic, an alarm clock and, inexplicably, a long, thin stick with some sort of putty stuck to one end. Sam pulled out the alarm clock, relieved that there would be some way of waking himself up in time for school. He tested the alarm and then set it for 6.30am. As he did so, he realised that he wasn't sure what time the bus would be picking him up. He would have to get to the bus stop early.

Curious about the notebook, Sam pulled it out and flicked through the pages. It appeared to be some sort of informal diary and Sam clapped it shut, his first thought being that he shouldn't read it. He pondered for a moment and reasoned that it could contain useful information. As he had leaped in to help Zach, reading it was surely excusable.

He slid under the duvet, rested the open book on his chest and started from the beginning. The first few pages contained colored drawings that seemed to have been done by a very young child. On one of the pictures, Zach had written his name, but Sam figured it must have been written several years earlier, as the handwriting in Zach's current math book was smaller and far steadier.

After the pictures came some writing, and this was much more recent. Sam began to read:

July 21st 1987

Grandma died today and I feel sad because now theres no one to talk to.

July 28th 1987

The funarel was today Dad had lots to drink and I'm staying in my room.

August 13th 1987

Dad stays out lots and I dont know how to cook food and I'm scard about whats going to hapen to me.

August 16th 1987

Everything is bad. Dad was geting reely cross tonite and he walked funy and fell over and I got cross with him and he hit me and I feel sad. Grandma toled me if I was in truble I should pray so lord I know its a big world and I'm 1 kid in it but plese dont foget me because I'm scard and I dont know what to do because you took grandma away and she was the only one to look after me.

August 27th 1987

I'm hid in my room and dad is braking stuff. Dear god plese keep me safe.

August 28th 1987

You know I said dad was braking stuff, well he brok a window.

September 12th 1987

Stuffs geting bad at school. Mrs Adams keeps asking me if I'm ok and I dont know what to say because I dont know what will hapen to me if they know. Some kids said I smell and I cant help it. I dont know how to wash stuff. Mrs Wiliams says she can help me if I want but I'm scard to say yes because dad will get mad. He did befor.

September 28th 1987

Its all bad. Ive got no frends at all and I'm very sad because theres never enyone to talk to ecept god. I might try and find mom because she might like me now I'm 8 and not little enymore. I could help her and play with my sisters. I'm going to find out were she is. Dear lord, plese rember me even if your bisy.

Sam read through the few pages of writing and then flicked through empty pages to the back of the note book. There was nothing more. He closed the book, hugged it to his chest and said softly, "He sent me Zach, and I'm going to help you."

He tucked the book back down the side of the bed and frowned, remembering that he needed to get out of bed to switch the light off. With his sore knees, that was just a nuisance. Then he grinned to himself, suddenly realising the genius of the boy who had a long stick with a putty end tucked down the side of his bed. Pulling out the stick, he sat up and shuffled forward towards the end of the bed. From there, he was able to poke the light switch off with very little difficulty.

Sam tucked the stick back down the side of the bed and sat Scruff down in the corner of the mattress next to the wall. He snuggled down into the bed and burrowed the side of his head into the pillow. He now knew what he could do to try to change Zach's life. Tomorrow he would find Zach's mother. Slightly comforted by this thought, Sam drifted into a deep sleep.

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Even Zach's alarm clock bleeping loudly near Sam's right ear took a while to rouse him fully from sleep the next morning. Eventually he came to his senses enough to reach for the off button and mentally moaned that there was no snooze option. He forced himself to sit up, knowing that if he didn't, he would quickly fall asleep again. As he did so, he gasped at the stinging sensation as he moved his legs and disturbed the scabs that had started to form on his knees overnight. He threw back the duvet and pushed the legs of his pajamas up to inspect the damage. The grazes were weeping through the dressings and Sam winced as he carefully peeled the tissue paper away from his damaged skin. He decided to let the wounds dry in the air, and hoped that he wouldn't knock them against anything during the day.

Dressed in a relatively clean, but again, slightly small pair of shorts and a T-shirt that he had picked out the night before, Sam crept out of the bedroom to the bathroom, unsure whether Zach's father was still in the house. He washed his face and combed his hair as best he could and smiled at the improved reflection of Zach that stared back at him.

He quickly prepared a breakfast of toast with raspberry jam and a cup of tea, but decided against making a sandwich for lunch as the bread was just too stale.

Slipping back to Zach's room, he checked the clock. It was 7am. Remembering to grab the math homework, he headed out for the bus, relieved to be leaving Zach's home behind for another day.

He quickly walked to the junction where the bus had dropped him off the night before, and leaned against a big tree to wait. After a few minutes, the Imaging Chamber door opened and Al stepped out. "Morning, Sam."

"Hi. I haven't missed the bus, have I?"

"No, you're OK. It won't be along for a while yet. How're your knees."

Sam glanced down at the two raw patches. "Excruciating when I first bent them getting up this morning, but they're OK now I'm up and moving."

"Anything happened since last night?"

"No. I didn't even see Zach's dad this morning. You got anything new to tell me?"

"Not yet. I'm going to head back. Just wanted to check you were OK." Al tapped at the handlink and the Imaging Chamber door opened again.

"Hang on, Al. I've got an idea and I need your help."

"What is it?"

"I want to contact Zach's mother. But I don't know who she is or where she is."

Al was sceptical. "Sam, I'm not sure about this. She walked out on him. She's not worth it."

"Al, I know this brings back bad memories for you, but we don't know anything about why she left, or why she didn't take Zach. I think she should have the chance to explain. And maybe she's the key to getting him out of here. I just need you to tell me who she is and how I can contact her."

Al looked resigned. "OK, I'll look into it. Just don't lose sight of why you're here, Sam. You need to save Zach's life. If you don't, then his mother's not going to be any use to him. I'll see you later."

Sam waited until Al had vanished through the door and then he sat down on a protruding root belonging to the big tree. After about ten minutes, he saw the bus approaching in the distance. He walked to the edge of the road as it drew alongside.

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On the journey to school, Sam chose a tactic for the day. There needed to be a back-up plan in case things didn't work out with Zach's mother. He figured if he was alert in class and generally tried to fit in and socialise with some nice kids, and if in the meantime Al could work with Zach and teach him to take care of himself, then maybe by the time he leaped out, between them they might have made some positive steps towards integrating Zach into a decent peer group. That at least might offer him some support.

In class, Sam noted the mild surprise on Mrs Adams' face when he handed in the completed homework. Later, when he raised his hand to answer a question, she paused at the sight and smiled warmly at him. "Go on, Zach." Of course, Sam answered effortlessly and she praised him enthusiastically in return. He couldn't help but grin to himself as he caught sight of a little girl on his left smiling cheerily at him. Things were going well.

At recess, he scoured the playground and chose to approach a group of three friendly looking boys from his class who were kicking a ball between themselves. They seemed speechless for a moment at his request to play with them, but the tallest of the three quickly recovered and welcomed him into the game. Soon the four were playing as though it was an entirely normal occurrence. Mrs Adams, peering through the classroom window shook her head in disbelief. She silently hoped she would now be relieved of her dilemma over whether to alert the authorities about Zach's situation.

When lunchtime approached, Sam was starting to regret his decision not to pack something to eat, as he had no money for lunch. He didn't realise he could bank on the generosity of his new friends who all offered to share a little of their packed lunches with him, when he quietly admitted that there wasn't really any food at home that he could bring for lunch.

The morning had gone so well that Sam was wondering why Zach had been having so much trouble keeping friends at school. He felt that the results of his fairly limited efforts had been huge. Perhaps it helped that he had improved Zach's appearance, but Sam wondered if confidence was the biggest factor. It seemed to him that Zach had been so badly affected, both physically and emotionally, by the events at home over the past couple of months, that when maybe a few spiteful or thoughtless kids had made some unkind comments, Zach had just withdrawn, not having the self-confidence to ignore them and carry on. And somehow life had gone on without him. Suddenly Sam could see some potential. If Zach could be given the confidence to hold his head up and see his worth, his old friends would still be there waiting for him.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

After a successful lunch break, Sam was settling quite happily into the afternoon's art lesson of still life drawing with pencils and pastels and was startled when Al suddenly appeared over his left shoulder.

"Sam, we need to talk. I've uncovered something and it's pretty big news. Can you get out of here for a bit?"

"Can't you talk to me here?" Sam whispered. "It's only been half an hour since lunch ended. Mrs Adams is going to think something's wrong with me if I say I need to use the bathroom already."

"I don't care what excuse you use. I could talk to you here, but when you hear what I have to say, you're going to want to talk back to me and then she really will think something's wrong with you."

Reluctantly Sam raised his hand and when Mrs Adams had finished talking with another child, she came over.

"How're you doing, Zach?" She looked down at his work. "That's coming along beautifully. Well done, Zach. I can see you've been making a real effort in class today."

"Thanks. Umm, could I please be excused?"

"Is there somewhere you need to be, Zach?"

"I just have to use the bathroom."

Miss Adams gave him a look of mock disapproval. "Go on then. Try to remember to go at lunchtime though, Zach."

"Yes, Ma'am." He got up and quickly followed Al from the room.

"What's the big news, Al?" Sam blurted out as soon as he had shut the classroom door. As he spoke, he noticed that there was a teacher and two children a little further up the corridor, who had all turned to see what the outburst was about. Without another word, Sam darted in the other direction towards the bathroom. As he got there, Al re-centred on him, but Sam didn't speak again until he had checked they were alone.

He leaned up against the sink unit. "What's going on, Al?"

"I did what you said. I looked up Zach's mother. The mother who walked out on him nearly two years ago. Sarah Jane Slater. She's now using her maiden name, Clement. Lives in Atlanta with her two daughters, Amy and Lucy, aged four and two. Just one problem. She isn't his mother."

"What?"

"She married Peter Slater in November 1982, when Zach was three years old."

"So, they got married after Zach was born."

"Right. A year after Mrs Emma Slater died. She was Zach's mother, Sam. She died when he was two. The second Mrs Slater left without Zach, because he wasn't her child to take."

"How did she die?"

"Electrocution. Accidental apparently. She died at the house."

"Does Zach know yet?"

"No. I guess he doesn't remember. I think he needs to know, though. Just haven't figured out what to say to him yet."

Sam thought for a moment. "I suppose that puts an end to my plan to get Zach out of here."

"Sorry, Sam. Maybe you have to accept that he's meant to stay, and we'll prepare him to cope with that. How are things going here?"

"School shouldn't be a problem. Everyone's been really receptive to the way I've been acting today. If you can teach Zach to be confident in himself, and a bit about how to take care of himself, I think people will be ready to accept him when he comes back."

"That's great, but it's not what I meant."

"The quarry? I've been thinking about that too, Al. Nothing's happened to suggest that anyone here was involved. I mean, assuming I haven't changed anything."

Al tapped at the handlink. "No, nothing's changed. Zach still dies in the quarry. So if it's not the school kids, that leaves accident, suicide, or Zach's father."

"Not suicide, Al."

"OK," Al conceded. "Having got to know Zach a bit, I'm inclined to agree with you. My money's on the father, especially now that we know about Zach's real mother."

"That really could have been an accident though. He hasn't been violent with me at all. Just unresponsive."

"But he has hit Zach before. We have a very delicate situation here, Sam. I think you need to find a way to confront Peter Slater about Zach's mother. Maybe you can help him to get past his demons, so that he can be a father to Zach again. Trouble is, talking to him about Zach's mother is the thing that could really set him off. Whether accident or murder, perhaps it's what got Zach killed."

"No," Sam quickly disagreed. "Zach didn't even know what I know about his mother."

Al raised his eyebrows. "Yet ..."

"You think he found out?"

"I don't know. You've been living at the house. Could he have stumbled across something?"

"Not unless he went digging for it. There's not even so much as a family photo on display." There was silence for a moment, then Sam sharply drew in a breath. "My homework!"

"What?"

"This morning, Mrs Adams set us homework. We have to find something at home that means something to us and write about it. On Monday we have to bring the special item in and read out what we've written. I was thinking of Zach's diary, or perhaps Scruff. But what if Zach went looking for something more important?" Sam paused. "Does Ziggy have anything to say about this?"

Al tapped at the handlink, frowned, shook it and thumped it. "It seems Ziggy's saying nothing."

"Ever helpful," Sam commented sarcastically.

"Looks like it's down to you, Sam. Listen, I want you to be really careful with this. You might end up doing exactly what Zach did that got him into danger. But if you don't do it now, Zach might still do it at a later date and then he might still die."

"I'll be careful. Don't forget, I'm bigger and stronger than, Zach. I can fight back. Maybe that's what it'll take to get through to his father. Speaking of back, I need to get back. I've been out of class for ages."

"OK, I'll catch up with you when you get back from school." Al watched Sam head out of the bathroom, then turned his attention back to the handlink. "Gooshie, center me on Peter Slater."

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Al found himself centred in a large, empty and undecorated room of a newly constructed house. The roar of a power tool reverberated through the house from another room, while in this room Peter Slater was crouched on the floor, concentrating intently on wiring up an electric socket in the wall.

"So you're an electrician. That's an interesting discovery," Al said aloud. "At least you don't seem to be drunk yet. How about you try staying that way for your son tonight?"

Al sat down on his chair and centred himself beside the man. He stayed for several minutes just watching him, and found himself surprised at how focused and diligent he seemed to be in his work. Peter Slater seemed to be just an ordinary, hard-working man. His face was more probably more haggard than it should be for a man of his age – Al surmised that years of alcohol and depression had contributed to that – but he couldn't see the face of a killer. Still, Al knew all too well how drunkenness could affect behavior.

Feeling that there was nothing more to be gained by watching the man at work, he opened the Imaging Chamber door and went back to check on Zach.

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Sam made his way home on the bus adopting the same air of confidence that he had used throughout the day. This time he had no trouble from the other kids, although none of his friends from class were on the bus and nobody else sat with him.

As he made his way up his street, Mrs Williams waved at him from her veranda and Sam walked up her path to chat with her.

"How're your knees today, Zach."

"A bit better, thanks."

"Do you need me to cover them for you again?"

"No, I think I'm just going to leave them open to the air."

"Well, that's probably the best thing. Can I offer you a drink?"

Sam gratefully accepted and sat chatting with Mrs Williams about his homework assignment. He wondered if she might let something slip about Zach's real mother, but all he learned was that Mrs Williams had only lived in the neighborhood for two years. After about twenty minutes he politely thanked her for the drink and quickly set off back home. He didn't want Peter to come home to find 'Zach' searching through his bedroom.

Arriving back at the house, he checked to make sure nobody was home, before making his way into Peter's bedroom. He turned on the light rather than opening the curtains and did a brief look round the room for anything obvious. Seeing how much junk and miscellaneous paperwork was stuffed under the bed, in the wardrobe, on the shelves and anywhere else where there was free space, he felt overwhelmed with what a big job this was going to be and for a moment, was unsure where to begin. _Got to start somewhere_, he told himself and he sat down on the floor beside the bed.

Over the next forty-five minutes, Sam pulled everything out from under the bed and then, finding nothing of particular interest, quickly stuffed it all away again. He moved on to the chest of drawers, which was mostly filled with clothes. It didn't take him long to find that there was no evidence to be gained there.

He was about to start on the wardrobe, but opening the door, he was again disheartened by the chaos that awaited him and instead slumped to the floor for a rest. An old guitar was tucked beside the wardrobe and he pulled it into his lap. One string was broken and he plucked at the others in turn, not surprised to find them out of tune.

Resting the guitar back against the side of the wardrobe, he stood up and blew out a deep breath as he surveyed the contents of the wardrobe. As he did so, Al suddenly appeared beside him with no warning. Sam was startled and jolted visibly.

"Hey, you're jumpy! It's only me."

"Where is he, Al? He's nowhere close is he?"

"No, I just checked on him. He's at a bar somewhere. It's Friday night. He probably won't be home for hours. So calm down."

"I just don't want him to catch me in here." The tension caused by snooping where he felt he wasn't meant to be was starting to get to Sam.

"You keep searching and let me worry about Peter Slater," Al reassured him.

"I'm not sure I can stand to keep searching without any guarantee that I will actually find anything. Look at this wardrobe. It's going to take forever to look through all this stuff."

"You might not have to. I've been talking with Zach."

"What did he say?"

"Well, firstly, there's an attic in this house."

"Yes, of course there is. I forgot about that. The access is in the ceiling between this room and Zach's." Sam crossed to the bedroom door and looked out into the hallway to confirm this to himself. "But do you think Zach could have got up there by himself?"

"I know he can. He's been telling me all about it."

Sam groaned. "Great. Another whole room to search. It's probably worse than this one."

"Hold on. I've got a target for you to aim for. I told him about the homework and asked him what special thing he would write about."

Al paused deliberately and watched amused as the impatience grew in Sam's face.

"Zach told me that after his grandma died, his dad had to clear out her house and he brought some of her stuff back here. Zach helped him put it in the attic. There was a little box of old toys that belonged to Zach's dad when he was a kid – little cars and farm animals and stuff – and Zach wanted to play with them, but his dad made him leave them up there. So since then, Zach's been going up to play with them on Friday nights. He knows his dad's always back late on Fridays. There's a step ladder leaning against the back wall of the house by the back door and it's just about tall enough for him to get up there. He told me that if he did that homework, he would write about the toys and he would sneak a couple of them out of the attic to take to school. He likes them because it makes him think about what his dad might have been like when he was a little boy."

"So maybe that's why he got into trouble with his dad – he was caught red-handed with the toys. It was probably nothing to do with finding out about his mom."

"Wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"I asked Ziggy."

"Oh, now she's talking?"

"Apparently. And she gives only a forty-two percent probability that it was the toys that got him into trouble. So I think he found something else up there."

Sam looked at Al. "Where did you say the ladder was?"

"Against the back wall, by the back door."

Sam opened the door and looked outside. "Here it is. It's pretty big for a little kid to carry though … oh, but not that heavy," he added as he lifted it. He carried the ladder inside and set it up directly beneath the access hatch.

"Al, could you just check on Peter again."

"OK. Gooshie, center me on Slater." Al vanished.

Sam climbed up the ladder and pushed the hatch cover aside. From the top of the ladder, he was able to step up into the attic quite easily. Al re-appeared within seconds.

"He's still at the bar, Sam. You're safe to keep looking for a while yet."

"Good." Sam was already looking inside what Al assumed was some of Zach's grandma's furniture.

Al began a visual search on the other side of the attic. "The box of toys is here, Sam," he called a few moments later. Then after another moment, he added, "Sam, what do you suppose Peter keeps in the guitar case, if the guitar's in his room?"

"What?"

"Over here." Al pointed at a solid, black guitar case that Zach appeared to have used as a table while playing with the toys.

Sam went over and stood beside Al. "Probably nothing." He crouched down on the floor by the case. "But it wouldn't hurt to check." He carefully cleared the toys from the top, unclipped the three fasteners and lifted the lid.

The two stared silently at the neatly arranged contents for a moment, and then Sam reached in and pulled a beautiful, framed photograph of a younger, happier Peter Slater, a pretty, dark haired, young woman and a dark haired toddler. He turned to Al, who smiled sadly back at him. Sam put the photograph down and turned back to the case, gently fingering his way through the remaining contents: another framed photograph of Zach as a baby, several films worth of unframed photographs, a small box of jewellery and a watch, a hairbrush that still contained long strands of dark hair, a favorite wool sweater, a small, white Bible bearing the names of Peter and Emma and the date of their marriage inside the cover, a sea shell, Emma's birth certificate, their marriage certificate and her death certificate.

"Memories from a short but happy marriage," Al commented.

"Hmmm." Sam shut the case without putting the framed family portrait back.

"You going to show that to him?" Al asked, pointing to the photograph.

"Yeah," Sam replied, looking thoughtfully at it.

"OK. Now that the search is over, how about you go and have something to eat?"

"Yeah, I probably should." Sam set the box of toys back on the case and stood up. "What's the time?"

"Just after six."

Al made for the hatch, but instead of following, Sam hovered by the guitar case, before crouching back down and picking his way through the toys in the box.

"Sam, what are you doing?

Sam didn't answer at first and Al came back to see for himself. After some thought, Sam selected a red car, a cowboy on a horse and three cows from the box. He looked up at Al. "For Zach's homework. Tell him for me."

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	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

After Sam had eaten, Al left him to check on Peter. Finding him still at the bar, he felt it was safe to leave the Imaging Chamber for a while to snatch a break.

Sam meanwhile, took a bath, found some antiseptic cream to put on his knees and got ready for bed. He climbed onto the top bunk and sat fingering the five little toys, hoping Zach would approve of his choice. He unzipped Scruff's hidden compartment and concealed the toys safely inside, before settling down on his back and gazing at the photograph, imagining how life might have been in the Slater house if Emma had lived. After a while his thoughts drifted to his own family and he surprised himself by recalling a couple of long buried memories from his own happy childhood.

When Al returned later, he found Sam asleep with the photograph resting on his chest. Scruff seemed to be keeping guard at the top of the ladder.

"Sam, wake up! Sam!"

Sam sleepily opened his eyes and turned on his side to face Al. "You're back," he croaked.

"Yes, I'm back. And so is he! Well, nearly anyway."

Sam pushed himself upright and pulled Zach's clock out from beside the mattress. "It's half past eleven."

"Yeah, it's late. Listen, Sam, he's pretty drunk. Maybe you should leave this until the morning."

"If I do that, he'll probably be out the door before I get a chance to speak with him. At least tonight he's not …" Sam paused as the front door slammed, "… not going anywhere."

"But maybe that's what Zach did wrong. He was probably so desperate to find out the truth that he confronted his dad with it at a bad time. At least if you wait until tomorrow morning, it'll be daylight. If Peter tries anything there might be witnesses who could stop him." Al stopped and then added, "If you decide you're not going to tell him tonight, maybe you'll leap."

Sam lowered his voice now that Peter was back in the house. "I'm not sure I want to leap yet. I want to make sure things are better when Zach comes back."

"Well, maybe you won't leap. Just please, don't speak to him tonight. Get up early and make him listen to you tomorrow," Al pleaded.

Sam stared silently at the photograph for several seconds. Then he looked back at Al. "OK. I'll wait. Now ask Ziggy if Zach lives."

Al pressed a few buttons on the handlink and his expression grew concerned. "Sam, Ziggy still says the same. Zach is reported missing tomorrow and found dead in the quarry on Sunday."

Suddenly the door to Zach's bedroom was flung wide open. Al froze and Sam quickly slapped the photograph frame face down on the bed. Peter stood in the doorway, eyes glazed. He tottered into the bedroom, stinking of cigarette smoke and beer and leaned on the safety rail of the bunk.

"Zachary … good … good … night," he slurred. And then he stared, unseeing, at Sam in a way that even Sam found unnerving. For a small child woken late at night, he imagined it would be terrifying.

"Good night, Dad," Sam responded, hoping he would go away. But he didn't. He just carried on staring. Finally, he pushed himself away from the bunk, swaying slightly and it seemed he was about to turn back towards the door, when something caught his eye.

Both Sam and Al followed his gaze to the photograph frame, which lay beside Sam's left thigh. Peter leaned back against the safety rail and slowly reached out and turned the frame over. For a few seconds, he continued to stare unseeing. Then a hint of recognition flitted across his face before he broke into a smile. He ran a finger over Emma's face and said her name aloud, his eyes becoming watery.

Without warning his gaze abruptly broke away from the photograph and he stared intensely at Sam. He opened his mouth and said quietly and searchingly, "Where'd you get that from?" Before Sam had a chance to answer, Peter leaned into his face and yelled, "Where'd you get that from?"

And suddenly everything happened very fast.

Peter grabbed Sam by his upper arms and hauled him inelegantly out of the bunk. Setting Sam's feet on the floor, he shook him and again yelled in his face, "Where'd you get it from?"

Sam, completely taken aback by the sudden violence, stuttered clumsily, "From ... the attic. I needed it for s… school. My homework."

"Don't ever go up there." The tirade continued. "That's … private." His speech was still slurred, despite the effort he was putting into volume and aggression.

Al watched the unfolding drama in horror, willing Sam to recover his senses and respond in some way productive.

The scene seemed freeze-framed for a moment, before Peter flung Sam backwards as hard as he could, snatched up the photograph and staggered from the room without looking back. The door slammed violently and the room fell quiet.

Al had watched helpless as Sam fell, and flinched as he heard the side of Sam's head smack hard on a piece of metal protruding from the dismantled cradle. Sam remained where he landed, sprawled unconscious on his side between the bunk beds and chest of drawers. Beneath his head, fresh blood soaked into the carpet.

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"Sam!" Al crouched beside him and silently cursed that he couldn't reach out to help him. He leaned over Sam's body and was relieved to see the steady expansion and contraction of his friend's chest. Seeing the blood, he knew there must be a bad gash hidden under Sam's thick hair. He called again to him, "Sam, can you wake up for me? Sam?"

Gradually, Sam's eyes flickered open. He lay still for a moment, seemingly digesting the image of Al before him. Suddenly, he appeared startled, sat up sharply and backed up against the wall, raising his right hand to his injured head as he did so.

"Sam, are you OK?" Al ventured, still crouching on the floor just in front of Sam.

Sam already looked wide-eyed and afraid, but drawing his hand away from his head and finding it covered with blood, he looked as though he was about to cry.

Al shelved his growing unease at Sam's behavior and tried to reassure him. "Sam, you fell and hit your head. It's bleeding a little bit, but you're OK. Talk to me, will you?"

Sam put his hand back over the gash and stared at Al. Then he opened his mouth and said in a tiny voice, "My name's Zach." He began to chew on his lower lip, not daring to take his frightened eyes away from Al's image.

"Oh, boy," Al breathed out. He backed away from Sam a little and sat cross-legged on the carpet, trying to make himself look as unthreatening as possible. He spoke gently, "You're not Zach. Your name's Sam Beckett. You're a scientist and you time travel and leap into people's lives to make things better for them." Al paused, recognising the confusion in Sam's face. They had been down this road before. "This time you leaped into Zach Slater. To everyone around you, except me, you look like Zach. But you're not Zach. You're Sam. You've swapped places with Zach and he's back at … a place we call the Waiting Room … waiting for you to save his life so he can come back."

Al waited for a hint of a memory in Sam's face, but was instead dismayed to see his friend becoming tearful. Sam opened his mouth, but could hardly speak. "I'm Zach. Please don't hurt me."

Desperation clawed at Al. He knew that if Sam had somehow got some of Zach's mind muddled with his own, he was in great danger of meeting the same end as the child. He needed to get 'Sam' back, but was struggling with the distress he was causing. For a few seconds, the dilemma consumed him, but a decision had to be made and for the moment it wasn't productive to upset Sam further.

Al took a deep breath. "I'm not going to hurt you, Zach. I promise. Look, I can't even touch anything, so I can't hurt you." He demonstrated by swinging his arm through the bottom bunk.

Sam gazed at this action, both fearful and amazed. "Are you a ghost?" he whispered.

"No. I'm something called a hologram. I'm a real person in the future, but I'm not really here right now. You can just see kind of a picture of me."

"Why are you in my bedroom?" Sam took his hand away from his head again. Blood was starting to trickle down the side of his face.

"I'm trying to help you. How about you go and get something to hold on your head."

Sam still seemed uneasy about moving in any way closer to Al and recognising this, Al shuffled backwards a bit towards the bedroom door. Very slowly, Sam got up, but instead of moving forward, he stayed rooted to the spot. When he spoke, his voice was very trembly. "I don't feel very good."

"Sit down, Sam … Zach," Al said quickly, but Sam barely needed telling. He had already dropped to the floor and was on his knees with his elbows resting on the carpet and his head in his hands. "Just stay quiet and still for a little while. You'll feel better in a minute."

Al was unsure whether to believe his own statement. He sat quietly watching Sam and didn't say anything when after a minute or two, Sam slowly uncurled himself, picked up Scruff from where he had fallen beside the bed, crawled up onto the bottom bunk and lay on his left side with his bloodied hands clasped together in front of his mouth and Scruff resting against his chest. His forehead was sweaty and blood-smeared, but there no longer seemed to be any fresh blood emerging from his hairline, although Al noticed that his knees were again bleeding and weeping through his pajamas.

After another minute or so of silence, Al moved from the foot of the bed, and sat cross-legged again directly in front of the bunk ladder, where he could see Sam's face between the rungs.

"Are you feeling a bit better?"

Sam made eye contact with Al and whispered, "Yes."

Al continued to look at Sam and frowned. "Then why are you crying?" He was somewhat taken aback by the tears that had started to slide sideways down Sam's face and into the mattress. "Zach?" Al was frustrated with himself. Had he been in the Waiting Room with the real Zach, he would have pulled the little boy into his arms to offer some solace. Here, he only had words.

Sam wiped at the tears with his fists, rolled onto his back, pulling Scruff into his arms and stared resolutely at the springs of the upper bunk. He seemed to be battling with something in his head. Al watched another tear escape down his temple, but still Sam said nothing. Al was about to try to draw him out of his silence when the handlink squealed, startling both of them. Al smacked it hard, not wanting Sam to be interrupted if he had something to say. The squealing stopped. Sam still stared at the bed springs, but timorously and child-like, he began to speak.

"I heard a noise."

"Sorry, Zach, it was this stupid handlink …" Al began, but was interrupted by Sam.

"No. No, it was a bang. There was a big bang. And I went to see what it was. I pulled the door open and Mom was lying on the floor and … Dad was leaning over her. He was shouting and hitting her and pushing down on her. I think … he killed her."

Even with his suspicions about Peter, Al was surprised by this memory dredged up from Zach's mind. But before he had the chance to respond to Sam, the handlink started to make a fuss again. This time it wouldn't allow Al to ignore it. He tapped a few buttons and suddenly felt weak as he read the display.

"SAM … ZACH, you've got to get out of here, QUICKLY. He's outside the door!"

This was as far as Al got, as the door burst open and Peter stalked in expressionless, yanked Sam from the bed and dragged him from the room.

Al felt sick with fear. He re-centred himself on Sam, who was now being pulled out through the back door. He rushed helplessly beside them, as Peter plotted an unsteady course across the garden, through the shrubbery and into the woods marching Sam along with one hand locked round Sam's wrist and the other hand grasping the back of his neck. Sam still had a comforting hold on Scruff with his free arm.

Sam stumbled along barefoot, unable or unwilling to try to escape his captor. Al caught sight of his terrified, tear-streaked face in the moonlight and wanted to scream for help. But it was useless. His only hope was to break through the paralyzing memories of the child to reach the man inside.

"Zach, listen to me. You're Sam Beckett. You're a six foot something, adult man. You can take this guy on. You know martial arts. Fight him. Fight him and get out of here before he kills you. Listen to me Sam. It's Al. I know you're in there. You need to get away, Kid. Quickly."

Al kept up the encouragement and pleading, the desperation in his voice increasing as they closed the distance to the quarry. His words seemed to have no effect, and all too quickly they arrived at a clearing where the ground sloped slightly upwards towards an unguarded edge. Peter stopped, swaying slightly about two feet from the pit.

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Peter sat down on the edge, pulling Sam down with him. Together they sat, with their legs dangling into the pit, gazing out across the moonlit water far below. They sat in silence for several minutes and in the tranquillity of the setting, Al could almost see Peter's anger draining away. He was confused. He had expected and dreaded a dramatic scene, but now the unpredictability of the situation was making him very uneasy. And all Ziggy would say was that nothing had changed.

"I used to bring your mother here," Peter began slowly and quietly. His speech was now far more coherent than Al would have given him credit for. "We sat like this and dropped stones down into the water. Other girls wouldn't come near the edge, but she was fearless. She was my best friend." He paused as though reliving the memories. "We lived with your grandma at first. And then we got the house when you were little and we were decorating it together, making it ours. She wanted to put some shelves up and I let her, because she was smart and she could do it, and I could see she wanted to prove that to me. So she started measuring and then drilling and I wasn't watching. And there was a bang and she was on the floor. I knew the instant it happened … she had hit an electric wire in the wall. I should've seen she was too close, but I wasn't watching." Peter paused for several long seconds as his voice filled with emotion. "Maybe it was my fault, but I didn't kill her. I tried to save her. I really tried. But she was gone."

There was another silence, before Sam said quietly, "It was an accident, Dad."

Peter reached out and ruffled Sam's hair. It was a simple gesture, but in that instant he began to bridge a gap.

"Can we go home now, Dad? I'm cold." Sam hugged Scruff tightly in his arms as if to demonstrate this fact.

Al, who had been monitoring the events with unease, was struck with the stark realisation that if something was going to happen, it had to happen now. He edged along beside Sam, trying not to startle him. Sam caught sight of Al and their eyes met.

"Zach, listen to me very carefully. Back slowly away from the edge. Don't get up until I tell you to. And tell your dad to do the same as you."

Sam nodded and turned back to Peter. "Dad, don't get up yet. We need to slide away from the edge. Watch me." Sam tossed Scruff a couple of feet behind him, shuffled back slightly and waited for Peter to do the same.

Peter grinned at Zach. "I've been coming here for a lot of years, Zach. I think I can manage on my own." Before Sam or Al could say another word, Peter leaped to his feet. He stood on the edge smiling down at Sam, and for a moment he looked so sure of himself, Sam forgot Al's warning. Peter offered his hand to help Sam up, and Sam began to reach towards him.

"No!" Al snapped sharply at Sam, and Sam withdrew his hand, surprised, and looked round at Al. As he did so, they heard a shower of gravel patter down the quarry side and both looked back to see Peter lose his footing and topple over the edge. From his seated position, Sam had no time to reach and grab him, but in a desperate and thoughtless attempt to arrest his fall, Peter lunged out and snatched at one of Sam's legs that was still partly dangling over the edge. Peter only had a grip on him for a moment, but it was enough to unseat Sam and he slid helplessly out of sight.

Al gasped in horror as Sam disappeared over the edge. His mouth and throat went dry and his stomach seemed to plummet through the floor. He couldn't move for a moment, but forced himself to look over the edge. He was almost overcome when he saw that a small ledge just below had broken Sam's fall.

He quickly centred himself in mid air right beside Sam and immediately established from his demeanor that Sam still believed himself to be Zach. "Zach, are you OK?"

Sam was crouched on his knees and forearms, trembling and pressing himself tightly against the quarry side. His head was bowed and his breathing quick and shallow. He seemed to be in shock, which Al considered was hardly surprising.

"Zach, can you look at me?" Sam slowly turned his head and looked at Al. "That's good, Zach. Listen, you didn't fall very far and you need to get off this ledge. I think if you stand up, you should be able to climb up quite easily."

Sam said nothing, but just stared at him. Al quickly punched some buttons on the handlink and grimaced at the result. Ziggy was predicting a ninety-eight percent chance that the ledge would crumble away before anyone would be able to rescue Sam. Al knew he needed to be firm.

"Zach, stand up," he said, in his most commanding Admiral-like voice. To his relief, Sam carefully got up, still pressing himself against the rock face.

"Good. Now turn around to face the rock. That's right. Now Zach, stretch your right arm up, as high as it will go and see if you can feel the top of the quarry." Al watched as Sam extended his arm. His fingers just reached over the top.

"See. You can feel the top. You only need to climb a little way, Zach. You've got the ledge under you and me beside you and I'll show you where to put your hands and feet. You're going to be fine. First hand hold for your right hand is here and ... uh ... your left foot can go ... there." He pointed to an indentation in the rock, a bit lower than the top of the quarry edge and within comfortable reach, followed by a narrow shelf about a foot higher than the ledge. Sam reached upwards and found the indentation with his fingers before placing his foot on the shelf. He looked intently at Al for the next instruction. He seemed to be running on autopilot. Al suddenly became very aware it was all down to him to get the instructions right. If he had been talking to Sam as himself, Sam would have evaluated Al's instructions and made his own judgements if he thought Al was wrong. Zach's persona was causing Sam to place his life in Al's hands, without question. It was a terrifying thought.

Gradually, Sam worked his way up the rock face. It was such a short distance, but Sam was struggling to climb with bare feet and for Al, it seemed like a decade had passed. Sam was still silent, doing exactly as he was told. As Sam's chest leveled with the top and his right foot found a final protuberance that would support him to safety, Al moved his position from hovering beside Sam, to sitting at the top. He watched as Sam rose up higher, leaned his upper body over the plateau and started to follow with his left leg. Al almost started to relax, when without warning Sam's left leg disappeared again and his torso slipped several inches back over the edge with a sharp jolt as his toes lost their grip on the foot hold. Sam looked at Al with wild eyes, feeling himself slipping further as his fingers clawed at tiny tufts of grass and his feet flailed frantically for support.

Instinctively Al dove for Sam's hands, although a slower, rational thought was telling him this action was futile. When he felt Sam's hands solid beneath his own, it again took another moment for his brain to process this. When he did so, he ignored the apparent collision of impossibility and reality and focused all his strength into pulling Sam to safety.

They both rolled clear from the edge and Al lay panting on his back, still feeling himself shaking. When he felt able to move, he crawled over to Sam, who was also on his back, still silent. "Zach, are you OK?" He rested his hand on Sam's shoulder and spoke as gently as he could. "You're safe now, Kid. Come on, talk to me." Hoping for a reaction, Al reached out, picked up Scruff from the ground and placed him on Sam's chest. He watched as Sam rolled his eyes downwards and caught sight of the toy. Sam raised his hands and caught hold of Scruff's ears, one in each hand, twisting them between his fingers.

Slowly, Sam's eyes shifted to meet Al's and Sam tentatively reached one hand out to him. Al took his hand and carefully pulled him upright. From his seated position, Sam glanced around dazedly. His eyes fell on the place where Peter had tumbled out of sight and he gasped.

"My dad," he choked and dissolved into tears.

Pained by Sam's desolation, but finally able to comfort him, Al drew the child into his arms and held him tight.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Sitting there on the ground, Al began to ponder what miracle could have happened to suddenly bring him and Sam together in space and time. And had Sam come to him, or had he gone to Sam? Even as the thought crossed his mind, he became aware of the moonlit scene around them dissolving away and the light of the Imaging Chamber breaking through. Within seconds, there was nothing left of the Georgia sky. It was just him and Sam huddled on the bare Imaging Chamber floor.

"Sam?" he whispered, before slowly releasing his hold on Sam and drawing back from him. Sam also drew back, wiped his eyes and blinked.

"Al?"

"Sam … I think you're home." Al almost didn't dare say it, and as the words left his mouth, he was afraid that somehow Sam couldn't see what he could see and maybe this was all some illusion and Sam would suddenly be snatched away again.

Sam slowly gazed around the room that he hadn't seen for so many years. He pressed his hands down on the floor and was about to get up, but Al stopped him.

"Hang on, Sam." In his bewilderment, Sam hadn't noticed that Zach's child-sized pajamas were now hanging in tatters from his body. Al quickly untied his robe, shrugged it off and handed it to Sam, who slipped it on over what was left of the pajamas.

"Thanks." He climbed to his feet and looked around him, before to Al's amusement, he went and touched one of the walls as if to check it was really there. Sam suddenly gave a wild whoop of delight and smiled ecstatically at Al, who had begun to pick himself up off the floor. Sam stood still for a moment, and then seemed to remember that being home meant 'touch'. He leaped over to Al and threw his arms round him, nearly knocking him back onto the floor. Al returned the embrace until Sam abruptly released him.

"Al, what happened to Zach?"

Al fumbled for the handlink, tapped some buttons and looked up at Sam with confusion clear on his face. "He still disappeared, Sam."

"What?" Sam's bright mood vanished in an instant and he leaned miserably against the wall. "Why, Al. It's not enough that I let … Zach's … dad die." Sam hovered over these words as the raw memory and realisation seemed to simultaneously strike him. "We lost Zach too?" He thumped the wall in frustration. "Let me out, Al."

Al used the handlink to open the chamber door. He knew Sam wanted some time alone, although he doubted he would get his wish for the immediate future, as by now there would be a swarm of people waiting outside for him. Still, he let Sam go. There were some questions that needed answering and Al was keen for a quiet word with Ziggy and a trip to the Waiting Room. Before heading for the door himself, Al picked Scruff up from the floor. He surveyed the grubby stuffed toy in his hands and smiled as a thought flitted through his mind. _Scruff, the first time traveling toy – not bad for a ratty little mutt like you_.

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It was some eight hours since Sam had been back and Al hadn't seen him since he'd walked out of the Imaging Chamber. It seemed Sam had endured several hours of tests and briefings, while Al had busied himself with catching up on sleep and family time, administration and investigating the outstanding issues that had been nagging at him. Before he'd noticed, the day had disappeared.

It was nearly 7pm now and Al had just been advised that Sam had been released to his quarters for rest a couple of hours earlier. As he made his way through the project headquarters, he was half bursting with excitement about one thing he needed to tell Sam, but at the same time dreading the questions Sam might have about the past few years.

He arrived at Sam's door and knocked softly. After some time, the door opened and Sam stood there, bleary eyed.

"Sorry Sam. Did I wake you?"

"No, it's OK. I was just resting. Come on in. You want a drink?"

"No. Just came to bring you a present and see how you're doing." He followed Sam to the sofa and sat Scruff on the cushion between them, raising a grin from Sam.

"I'm all right, I guess. A bit bruised, battered and sore."

"I'm not surprised; your body's been through quite a bit recently."

"Yeah. My knees look like someone's taken a grater to them. Feel better now the tests and meetings are over though. I just can't be bothered with all that stuff right now."

"You must be pretty tired."

"It's not just that. I wanted some time to figure stuff out, put together all the bits of memories in my head, that sort of thing. I'm starting to forget the leaps already – I mean the ones I could remember until now. And I don't want to forget. Not all of them. And then there're all the memories from before that are starting to come back. It's a bit confusing. And I can't figure out how I even got back here … not that I'm complaining."

Sam stopped and gave Al a deliberate bewildered look, which made Al smile. "It's really good to have you back, Sam. Give me some of those memories; maybe I can unjumble them for you."

Sam talked with Al for nearly an hour about everything from his family, Al's family and Donna to the less personal topics of government, sports and inflation. Sam was thrilled to hear that he'd given Beth back to Al, astounded to be reminded that he had a daughter, and surprisingly complacent about the disappearance of Donna from his life.

Al struggled to explain that one. "It was weird, Sam. Back when you first leaped, she wasn't part of your life. Then quite early on, you changed something and I came out of the Imaging Chamber and there she was. You remember her from when you swapped places with me?" Sam nodded. "Well, she was around for quite a while after that, and then one day I came out and you must have changed something again, because she was gone." Al wanted to say sorry, but felt it would have sounded shallow, considering he now had a wonderful family at home thanks to Sam.

"I guess you've seen quite a few sudden changes like that. What about coming home to find you have a wife and four kids?" Al smiled, but Sam sensed his discomfort. "I'm glad about Donna, Al ... really," he added off Al's surprised look. "It wasn't right, her having to wait back here without me. She deserved a life. I hope she got one."

They were silent for a few moments, then Al said, "So, what do you think about Sammy Jo?"

Sam raised his eyebrows. "It's pretty scary to suddenly find I'm a dad. I wish I could have seen her grow up; but in 'our' time I was only 13 when she was born. Do you think I should tell her?"

"Absolutely. She's really great, Sam. Her step-dad died a couple of years back, so I think she'd love the chance to get to know you."

"Hope so." Sam turned to face Al, crossed his legs on the sofa and leaned his chin on his hands. "Al, something's still really bothering me."

"What's that?"

"Zach. And his dad."

Al took a deep breath. This was what he'd been longing to talk about, but he still wasn't sure how Sam would react. "Yeah, Sam. I need to talk to you about that."

"What did I do to make his dad die, Al? It didn't happen the first time. I feel like it was my fault."

"Don't think about it. We'll probably never know what it was. I know I checked with Ziggy right up until moments before it happened and you hadn't changed anything, so it couldn't have been your fault. Don't forget he was drunk."

"He was probably drunk the first time."

"Sam. Leave it. He was a tortured man. At least now he's free from all that."

"But things would have got better. I remember; I was getting through to him. I mean, I know I wasn't quite me, but I remember talking to him. We made progress, and then …"

"Sam. Listen to me. Just let it go."

Sam still looked miserable, but he could see the sense in what Al was saying. "OK, but I need to know, did they find him?"

"Who?"

"Peter."

"Yes, they found him. He was buried with his wife … the first one, Emma."

"Good." Sam leaned the side of his head on the back cushion of the sofa. He was tired, but couldn't bring himself to rest yet. "Zach still disappeared."

Al was hesitant. "Sort of."

Sam immediately latched on to the answer. "You've found out something?"

"I have."

"Tell me."

"All right, here goes. When you came back, you didn't exactly leap did you. There was no blue light and you arrived still wearing what was left of Zach's pajamas."

Sam caught on quickly. "Al!" he said, wide-eyed. "Zach's still here, isn't he?"

"Yeah. Not in the Waiting Room though. We figured we could let him out, now you're home."

"Al, that's incredible. Well, kind of. I mean at least he's not back there on his own. But what are we going to do with him. It's not 1987 any more, but he's still eight. That's got to be weird. Should we try to send him back … no, we can't experiment on a child like that. Al, what do we do?"

"Calm down. To begin with, I don't think he'll want to go back. And he's young. I think he'll adapt well to the change in time. But what to do with him is the bigger question. I have an idea, but I'm not sure what you'll think, and we might have to use some of our 'friends' in high places to make it legal."

"What's the idea, Al?"

"You want to be a dad again?"

Sam stared at him open-mouthed. "I … uh … I hadn't thought about it. Do you think I could … or should?"

"I really don't know, Sam. It was just a thought. The leaping seems to be over. Perhaps _He's_ got another purpose for you now." Al rolled his eyes skyward for a moment and then looked straight back at Sam with a hint of a smile on his face.

"Al, does Zach know anything about what's happened? His dad? And being stuck here?"

"No. All he knows is that you changed places with him to help him. I don't think it's fair to explain the developments until we can tell him what's going to happen to him. He needs some security. Look, Sam, I'm going to leave you for now. You've got a lot to think through. See you tomorrow, OK?"

"OK."

Sam watched Al let himself out and then settled back down on the sofa to think.

He stayed in the same position for some time, stretched out on the sofa, absent-mindedly hugging Scruff in his arms like a cushion and dozily pondering over all the thoughts that Al had left him with, although Al's suggestion about Zach was the predominant occupant of his mind. Undeniably, circumstances had forged a strong bond between him and Zach, even though the two had never exactly met. Being a father to him seemed the right thing to do, but he readily admitted to himself that he was afraid. It was a massive decision. He suddenly felt a strong need to speak with Zach, to get to know him and get a sense of his feelings. Maybe that would help with the decision. Besides, he had Zach's favorite toy and surely a little boy should have that at bedtime.

Sam glanced at his watch. It was just after half past eight and he wasn't sure if Zach would still be awake. Still, it was worth checking. Zach had only been released from the Waiting Room for a few hours and in that cocoon, his normal body clock had been maintained. His mind was probably still telling him it was morning. Sam figured if he was wrong, he could at least slip Scruff into the room to give Zach something nice to wake up to.

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Sam used a borrowed keycard to access the tiny living quarters that had been allocated to Zach on the floor below Sam's own quarters. The door opened onto a small, dimly lit, living room where the female staff member keeping an eye on Zach was reading a book by the light of a coffee table lamp. She glanced up as Sam entered the room.

"Dr Beckett, how can I help you?"

"I need to have a word with Zach. Is he still awake?"

"I'm not sure. He's been in his room for quite a while now. You're welcome to check – it's the door on the right."

"Thanks."

Sam walked up to the bedroom door and hesitated for a second. He still had no idea what he was going to say. He quietly opened the door just a tiny bit and could see that the room was dark. He was prepared to just slip Scruff onto the end of the bed and creep out again, when Zach rolled over and whispered, "Who's there?" He fumbled for a torch that he seemed to be keeping beside him under the duvet and shone it in Sam's face.

"Sorry, Zach. I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't sleeping. Can you put the light on?"

"OK." Sam flicked the switch and Zach switched the torch off and screwed his eyes up tightly against the sudden brightness. He rubbed at his eyes and peered through tiny slits, until he had adjusted to the light.

"Scruff!" He exclaimed, suddenly noticing the dog in Sam's hand. He held out his arms and Sam passed the toy to him. "You're Sam, aren't you?" He asked shyly. "You were helping me."

"Mind if I sit down?" Sam gestured to the end of the bed and Zach shrugged, so Sam sat. "Yeah, I'm Sam. How'd you know?"

"When I was in that room … the Waiting Room … I looked like you."

Sam smiled at him. "That's right. And when I was at your house, I looked like you."

"But you're back now. And you look like you and I look like me. But I'm still here."

Sam wasn't sure where to go with this. "Yeah. Is that all right?"

Zach shrugged again. He looked down at Scruff in his lap, pulling at the furry ears and asked quietly, "Am I ever going home?"

Sam took a deep breath, knowing he had to give Zach a straight answer. "No, I don't think so." He was unsure what to expect by way of a reaction from Zach. At first, there seemed to be no reaction at all. Zach didn't look up; he just carried on fiddling with Scruff's ears. Then he asked, in a slightly quavery voice, "What about my dad?"

Sam was silent. He didn't know how to say what he needed to say. Unnerved by the silence, Zach looked up. There were tears in his eyes and he looked apprehensive. "Is he dead?"

The directness of the question caught Sam off guard. He looked Zach in the eyes and nodded sombrely.

Zach continued to stare at Sam for several seconds with the tears gathering in his eyes but not falling. When they finally spilled over, Sam reached out and rested his hand on Zach's shoulder, thinking that if he made the first move, Zach would know it was OK to come to him for comfort. But Zach didn't move. He was trying to be brave and to Sam's surprise he stoically began to talk through his tears. "Tell me about when you swapped places with me, Sam. Tell me about Dad."

"Uh … OK. I was there to save your life, but it looked like you were having a tough time and there was nobody to look after you, so I wanted to try to make things better for you too. I met your dad when he came home the first night and he seemed really sad."

"He was drunk, wasn't he?" Zach stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes, he was."

"Did he think you were me?"

"Yeah, because I looked like you. And I tried to act like I thought you might act, but that was hard, because I hadn't met you. I wanted to find out why he was so sad, so I could help him. I thought if he could be happy again, he would be able to look after you."

"He was sad because Grandma died. But there was something else too, because he was sad before she died."

"That's right. And I found out why. Zach, there's something you need to know about your mom."

"Did you find out why she left me?"

"Yeah, I did. She left you behind because she wasn't your real mom. You don't remember, but your real mom died when you were very little. There was an accident at your house and your dad couldn't save her. That's why he was so sad." Sam gave Zach a moment to digest this revelation.

"Mom wasn't really my mom? Who was my real mom?"

"Her name was Emma and your dad loved her a lot. She died when you were two. I thought if I could talk to your dad about your real mom, I could help him feel better. So I found a photograph of her and he saw it and he was upset for a while, but he told me what happened to her and I told him it wasn't his fault. And I think after that, he was feeling a bit better."

"How do you know?"

"Well, he ruffled my hair, like this." Sam leaned over and demonstrated the action on Zach. "And he smiled. I hadn't seen him smile before that."

Zach thought for a moment. "I don't remember the last time I saw him smile. Or the last time he touched me." They were heartbreaking statements and Sam felt a painful empathy with Zach's sadness.

"How did he die?" Zach looked at Sam searchingly.

It was a question Sam wasn't ready or willing to answer for him. "You don't need to know that, Zach. Not yet." Sam held his breath, half expecting Zach to protest, but he didn't.

"Grandma told me that Mom and Dad got Scruff for me when I they found out I was in Mom's tummy. 'Cause they were so happy. I thought she meant Mom … my second mom. But I guess she meant my real mom. I'm glad you brought him for me."

Sam smiled and reached over to stroke Scruff's head. "He kept me company while I was at your house." Sam surveyed Zach's tear-blotched face. "Are you all right?" It seemed a stupid question, but Sam was trying to gage whether it was OK to leave Zach alone for the night. Zach nodded, but didn't make eye contact with Sam. "Is there anything else you want to ask me?"

Zach looked up and gazed piteously at him. "What's going to happen to me?"

Sam paused at this question and realised he just wasn't ready to make the commitment that was required of him at this moment. His mind flitted with excuses – he was too tired to think clearly, it hadn't even been two hours since Al had made the suggestion to him, he needed more time to think – but another more honest thought kept intruding. He was running from the decision. He was suddenly aware that Zach was still gazing at him, waiting, and he quickly formulated a not very satisfactory answer.

"Don't worry about that. We'll sort something out. You just try to get some sleep, OK?"

Zach nodded and slid under the duvet with Scruff. He looked miserable and Sam wasn't sure what to do. He was willing to comfort Zach, but felt that Zach would push him away. He had lived in emotional isolation for at least two months and didn't seem ready to accept that comfort yet. Sam tucked Zach in, wished him good night and switched out the light.

"Door open or closed, Zach?" he said before leaving the room.

"Closed."

"OK, see you in the morning."

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	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Sam struggled to settle that night, feeling uneasy about having left Zach. This, compounded with the time travel 'jet lag' he was experiencing, made restful sleep a near impossibility, despite his exhaustion. At 3am he finally kicked off the duvet. He pulled on some jeans and a T-shirt to maintain some semblance of decency for entering the common areas of the building, grabbed a good book and made his way to Zach's room.

Zach's minder was startled by his sudden entry into the darkened living room. She had been trying to get some sleep on the sofa and fumbled for the lamp before seeming to remember that light meant Sam could see her disheveled appearance, at which point she became deeply self-conscious and began to obsessively smooth her hands over her hair.

"Dr Beckett, uh, can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm really sorry to wake you. I was having trouble sleeping and I thought I'd come and check on Zach."

"Well, as far as I'm aware, he's still asleep. Did you want to check?"

"No, it's OK. I don't want to wake him. I was just worried about him because I had to tell him some upsetting news last night and I wasn't too sure how he was taking it. Look, if you want to go back to your quarters and get some proper sleep, I can keep an eye on Zach for the rest of the night. I seem to be pretty awake now."

"You don't have to do that, Dr Beckett. I'm being paid to stay here."

"I know and I'll make sure you don't get into any trouble for leaving your post. There's no sense in us both staying here, and I'd like to be here if he needs me at all."

"If you're sure. Thank you."

"No problem. Good night."

"Good night, Dr Beckett."

Sam settled himself on the sofa with his book, but instead of reading he switched the light off and lay in the darkness thinking. He wasn't aware of the moment some time later when his body gave way to a dreamless sleep. The next thing he knew was a sense of someone moving in the room. He opened his eyes and blinked against the darkness, but it wasn't completely dark as he would have expected in a closed room with no windows. Sitting up, he saw Zach standing by his bedroom door, illuminated by the light from his little torch. In the semi-darkness, Sam could barely see Zach's face, but he heard quiet sniffs escaping intermittently from the small figure.

"Zach, it's me, Sam. Are you all right?"

"I woke up and I … couldn't remember … where I was," Zach stammered quietly between sniffs.

"Do you want to come and sit with me for a while?"

Zach timidly made his way over to Sam and stood uncertainly in front of him. Sam switched the lamp on, causing them both to shut their eyes abruptly. Rubbing his eyes, Sam patted the seat next to him.

"Come and sit down."

Zach sat and instinctively Sam wrapped his arm round Zach's shoulders. He felt Zach tense at his touch and was reminded that his action wasn't something Zach was very familiar with.

"I don't want to be on my own," Zach quietly admitted.

"You won't be, Zach. I'm staying here tonight."

"No, that's not what I mean," he squeaked. He bowed his head and began to sob. Sam wrapped his other arm round him and gently drew him close until he buried his face in Sam's T-shirt.

After a while, Zach seemed to relax against Sam, who kept one soothing arm round him. When Sam thought Zach might be able to speak, he asked, "What did you mean, Zach?"

Haltingly, Zach tried to explain. "When kids don't have anyone to look after them ... they get put in foster care or in a children's home ... and you said you were going to sort something out ... and that's where you're going to put me ... and I don't want to go."

He was crying again and Sam mentally chastised himself for his thoughtless remark. The time had come for a radical decision and he wasn't going to shirk it any more. "Hey, don't be upset," he said gently. "Where would you like to live, Zach?"

Zach shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know anyone here."

"I know you don't, but I feel like I've got to know you a bit. I was thinking, maybe … would you like to live with me?"

Zach chewed at his lower lip without replying and Sam, losing confidence in the question, quickly added, "You don't have to."

Zach was silent for another moment, before he looked up at Sam and nodded. "Yes, please," he almost whispered.

Sam smiled warmly at him. "OK. That's good." He wiped Zach's tears away with his hand. "Do you want to go back and get some sleep now? I'll still be here when you wake up."

"OK."

Sam kissed him on the head. "Good night, Zach."

"Good night."

He watched Zach slip back into his bedroom, and then switched off the lamp and lay back on the sofa. He found himself grinning and was amazed at how laid back he felt about the decision he had just come to. He turned on his side and began to ponder over how to make his life child friendly and how he would enjoy introducing Zach to his family. With that happy thought, he drifted off to sleep.

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When Sam awoke next, he was surprised to find it was after midday. He slowly crawled off the sofa and made his way to Zach's room. Quietly pushing the door open, he was bemused to find Zach sitting upright on his bed, with Scruff in his lap and his eyes tightly shut. He noticed Zach had found the little toys stashed inside Scruff's tummy, as they were now lined up on the duvet in front of him.

"Zach? What are you doing?"

Zach opened his eyes and twisting at one of Scruff's ears, he gave Sam a small smile. "I was praying."

"Why?"

"I wanted to say thanks. 'Cause He remembered to help me. Is that OK?" Zach added with uncertainty.

Sam smiled at him. "Yeah, Zach. It's good to say thank you. I should do the same."

"What do you want to say thank you for?"

"Uh … for bringing me home, I guess."

Zach quickly shut his eyes again. "Thank you Lord, for bringing Sam home," he said quietly, before opening his eyes and smiling shyly back at Sam.

It gave Sam pause for thought. "Amen," he said softly. The two regarded each other in silence for a moment, before Sam spoke. "Shall we get some breakfast?"

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Al had slept long and deep that night and Beth didn't wake him when morning came, deciding he fully deserved his first 'sleep in' for many years. When he roused, he was flustered, thinking he needed to get to the Imaging Chamber for Sam. He felt happy relief when he finally came to his senses and realised there was no need to rush.

He arrived unhurriedly at the project headquarters early in the afternoon and calmly strolled around the complex looking for Sam. He was pleasantly surprised to find he and Zach together in the canteen eating what appeared to be a very late brunch. He waved to them and Zach slid from his seat and came over to him.

"Al, guess what?"

"What?" Al replied, playing the game.

"I'm gonna live with Sam."

"Really?"

Zach nodded.

"That's great!"

Al watched Zach trot back to his seat and gestured for Sam to join him.

Sam looked quizzically at Al and made his way across the canteen.

"What's up?"

"That was a quick decision."

"What? Oh, Zach. Yeah. Well, it was a good idea. And it feels right, Al, it really does." He paused. "Do you think I can do it?"

"Of course you can," Al exclaimed, amused by Sam's concern. "No more leaping then?"

"Not if I can help it. That chapter's closed."

"Don't blame you. Good work, Sam."

"You too, Al. I couldn't have done it without you."

Al shook his head, shrugging off Sam's compliment. "I guess now we need a new project."

"I guess. Or some developments to this one." Al raised his eyebrows at this. "I mean, as long as I get to stay put," Sam clarified. "In the meantime, I've got a project for you." Sam looked over at Zach.

"The legalities?" Al guessed.

"Yeah. Do you think there'll be a problem?"

"Let's hope not. I think we can use our connections to our advantage. Anyway, let me worry about that for now. Go and take the day to get to know your son. And perhaps at some point you can introduce him to your daughter," he added with a grin.

Sam turned and started to walk back to Zach.

"Hey, Sam," Al called and Sam turned back.

"What?"

"Enjoy your family." A huge grin spread across Al's face and Sam developed one to match.

"Thanks. It's going to be a beautiful day."


End file.
